Page 16 of Twisted Revelations

9

Dax

With our prisoner secured, I glanced at my accomplice, Laura. Was she truly going to watch me torture this guy?

When we wheeled the cart through the common area of the suite, Beverly and D glared at us. D knew what was about to happen, but Beverly was clueless and even more so when we continued to roll the cart past the door that led to the back bedroom. Neither Laura nor I uttered a word as their eyes followed us.

I’d sent Laura from the room to allow me time to finish setting up the scene. She left without protest when I promised to come and get her when I was ready.

When I stepped into the living area fifteen minutes later, I found Laura and Beverly standing at D’s shoulder as he explained something to them. Unlike mine, his patience was something to be revered. He could charm the pants off the devil’s wife. I was usually filled with biting anger that caused me to become irritated too easily.

D had their full attention. “Take out Santino Dominquez. It’s the easiest way to make the death note on your heads disappear.”

“What if taking out Mr. No Face Santino doesn’t work and the group chasing us keeps coming? Why do they call him No Face anyway? Is he disfigured or something?” Laura questioned.

“They call him No Face because no one that’s tried to identify him has seen his face. Although our main goal will be Santino, we will also put a concentrated effort into identifying the specific group targeting you. However, taking out the group before taking out a big fish like Santino could spook him, so we have to be careful how we execute. We also have to consider the link between the DG6 targets our friends in California are gearing up to take down. We have to plan and execute with all these moving parts in mind, which could well mean us laying low and waiting for the right time to strike.”

D was being more open with the ladies than I’d expected. However, my gaze landed on Laura and narrowed. She’d likely been nagging him for details. My eyes met hers before I tilted my head toward the door.

How far was she willing to go? I was interested in finding out. She was clueless as to who she was about to be locked in a room with. The suits I wore, my put-together persona, and even my family’s wealth had long ago become the cover that hid the depths of my darkness.

I opened the door like the gentleman I was taught to be and allowed Laura to enter the room first. The man was hanging from chains that were clamped to the sturdy hooks I’d anchored to the ceiling. He’d been stripped of every thread of clothing except his underwear.

His body swayed like a light breeze was blowing him, the chains belting out a squeaky melody. Laura’s gaze was locked on the man as she stepped closer, observing the room’s setup. Thick plastic covered the floors, furniture, and ceiling. I eased the door closed, and the sound of the lock sliding into place drew Laura’s eyes in my direction.

“You don’t have to stay for this part. It can get quite…” I paused for effect. “Bloody.”

“I’m from Crestwood. Bloody is a norm I’ve had to live with all my life.”

“Suit yourself, but I recommend you suit up,” I suggested before pointing at the slicker suit I usually wore when I put in this kind of wet work.

Without question, she started pulling on the thick clear plastic over her clothes. The suit swallowed her, but she was more interested in getting this session started than being swallowed by plastic.

“Aren’t people going to hear him if he screams?” She questioned while pacing and observing the man at different angles. She was inquisitive, and I noticed there wasn’t much she missed.

“This suite’s the only living space on this floor, and this room is soundproof. That’s one of the main reasons why I chose this hotel,” I informed her before pointing at the man. “He can scream until the fat lady joins him and no one will hear it.”

A smile tickled her lips as her expression filled with a devilish glow that was hard to miss. I wasn’t used to having an audience as I worked, but I was intrigued by my little follower. It still hadn’t clicked into place the fact she was into women. I didn’t see or sense it in her, not that you could sense a personal trait.

Her gaze chased my movement when I lifted the smelling salts from my worktable. With the salts under the man’s nose, his head jerked before his body stiffened and released as he awakened and immediately started to resist the restraints gripping his wrist.

A set of bloodshot eyes snapped open and met ours. Confusion wrinkled the man’s face. His mouth dropped at the sight of me and remained open at the sight of Laura. A glimpse at his naked body heightened his despair as he attempted to yank free of the thick restraints.

“What? Who?” His neck turned rapidly as his useless kicks whipped through the air.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions. I’ll ask them once,” I started, my tone severe. “I’m going to start cutting you, and I won’t stop until I hear the answers I seek.” My words were delivered with crisp precision so there would be no confusion about what would happen if I didn’t get what I wanted.

The man attempted to speak, but the clouds of death that filled my gaze and a finger in front of my lips silenced him. Laura stood in place, her gaze roaming from me to the man. She was a talker, loved to hear the sound of her own voice, but she knew when to keep her mouth closed.

“Are there any more groups prepared to chase these women? Who ordered their capture and why? Where is Santino Dominguez? Where is his home? What place or places does he frequent?”

The man’s arms grew tight as he attempted to pull free of the unbreakable restraints. His body tensed, and his gaze clouded with fear.

“There are no other groups. We were tasked to capture the women, but I don’t know who ordered the capture. I don’t know where Santino is either,” he alleged in a low, squeaky tone. Laura shook her head and pursed her lips, likely knowing far better than the man that he hadn’t given me the answers I wanted to hear.

My body turned to face the table as I allowed an exhausted sigh to escape. The shiny scalpel gleamed in my eager hand before I added a drop of liquid to the edge of the blade. Laura’s shadow met me before her warmth settled near me, her stealthy steps not making a sound.

A question emerged in her expression but disappeared when she glanced at the bottle, labeled NaCl. “Sodium Chloride,” she translated in a low tone. “You’re going to put salt in his wounds?” She questioned before a smile flashed across her face.

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